


but the blues are still blue

by laiqualaurelote



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crack, F/M, Gen, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sparrow Academy, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25816684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laiqualaurelote/pseuds/laiqualaurelote
Summary: “So are we going or what?” says Klaus lightly. “Do I have to put on one of your tragic uniforms?”“No,” says Not-Ben through gritted teeth, “but at the very least, could you find a shirt that covers your nipples? Or are you allergic to buttons?”“Oh, I love buttons,” says Klaus. “I love to push them. The 2000s are calling, by the way; they want their emo fringe back.”The Hargreeves adjust to life in the Sparrow Academy. Post-S2, spoilers for finale
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves/Lila Pitts
Comments: 78
Kudos: 774
Collections: The umbrella academy





	but the blues are still blue

**Author's Note:**

> Isn't time travel wild? I have so many questions. I invented my own Sparrow Academy characters, based on the ones hinted at in the comics. There should be seven of them, including Ben, but I only got as far as five. Major character deaths are background and occur largely thanks to time travel.
> 
> Title from The Blues Are Still Blue by Belle & Sebastian

“For the record,” says Not-Ben, “I don’t think Dad should have let you stay in the house.”

Klaus slants a look at him. He’s upside down, because Klaus is dangling his head off the edge of the bed. Not-Ben is leaning against the doorframe, frowning at him, arms crossed over that stupid uniform. Klaus thinks he tastes bile in his throat, but that could just be his weird position.

“Lucky for us, Dad doesn’t give a flying fuck what you think.” He swings back up and arranges himself in lotus position. “What do you want, brother dearest?”

“I’m not your brother,” says Not-Ben, rolling his eyes, and in that moment of exasperation he looks so much like the Ben Klaus knew, Klaus feels it like a hook lodged in his throat.

Not-Ben must see something of it in his eyes, because he looks away. There’s an awkward silence. Finally, he says: “Someone died. One of the leads we were following. We need to talk to him.”

“Of course,” says Klaus. “Time to trot out the pet psychic.”

“Dad said it’s time for you lot to start earning your keep.”

“Oh, are we keeping count now?” Klaus springs off the bed, starts to pace. “How about we invoice him for 30 years of psychological damage? Then we can talk about earning our keep.”

“He’s not like that,” says Not-Ben. “I don’t know what he was like in your timeline, but he wasn’t like that for us.”

“Well,” snaps Klaus, “bully for you.”

“Seriously, though,” says Not-Ben, “you can’t just stay in here all day. You’re not doing anything. It’s not good for you.”

Klaus laughs hollowly. “ _Now_ you sound like my brother.”

“I’m really not your brother,” says Not-Ben. “I would not have the first idea how to go about being a brother to you.”

“It’s okay,” says Klaus. “It is a pretty raw deal. I just kind of...happen to people.”

Not-Ben watches him carefully.

“So are we going or what?” says Klaus lightly. “Do I have to put on one of your tragic uniforms?”

“No,” says Not-Ben through gritted teeth, “but at the very least, could you find a shirt that covers your nipples? Or are you allergic to buttons?”

“Oh, I love buttons,” says Klaus. “I love to push them. The 2000s are calling, by the way; they want their emo fringe back.”

Not-Ben rolls his eyes again. “I’ll meet you in the foyer. We leave in ten.”

*

It had been a long week.

“What do you mean, this is a parallel timeline?” demanded Luther. They were having Family Meeting in the den. It was the first pow-wow they had succeeded in holding since the various disasters that had followed their return to 2019. Like being summarily disowned by a man who had never been their father, which - their fault, really. 

So many embarrassing moments. Like when Diego threw a knife at one of the Sparrow Academy, only for her to dissolve into a flock of birds, some of which took a shit on his head. Or when Vanya had glimpsed Pogo pottering about in the background and dissolved into hysterical apologies, to Pogo's unending confusion. Or when Klaus had attempted to fling his arms around not-Ben and got socked in the jaw for his trouble.

Grace handed him a bag of frozen peas to ice his jaw. “Thanks, Mom,” said Klaus, and she smiled and patted him on the shoulder. She was pretty much the same in this timeline, because she was a robot. Diego kept gaping at her. Soon it would be his turn to descend into hysterics, probably.

“No, no, we can’t go back to the other timeline!” Five was shouting. “It’s been overwritten! It had the apocalypse in it, it was a bad branch, we don’t want it any more!”

“So you’re saying,” went on Luther, “that we actually stopped the apocalypse by not existing to begin with.”

“Pretty much.”

“Wow.” Luther sank into the couch. “That’s a lot.”

“Wait,” said Vanya, “but what about the versions of us in this timeline? I mean, if Dad didn’t adopt us - we must still be out there somewhere.”

“Ooh,” said Klaus. “We have time-doppelgangers?”

“Please never use that phrase again,” said Five, “but yes. There are parallel versions of ourselves in this timeline and I would recommend we stay far, far away from all of them.”

There was a pause as they took this in.

“Wait,” said Allison into the silence. “Does that mean Claire doesn’t exist?”

*

Talking to the ghost is hard. This close to death, they’re often dazed and in denial. Klaus snaps his fingers in front of the dead man’s wandering eyes. “Hey, hey. Focus, dude.”

“Ask him what the Murder Magician’s next step is,” says Not-Ben.

Klaus repeats the question several times. “Murder?” says the ghost, eyes wide. “Murder?”

“Yes,” says Klaus patiently, “murder, yes, but then after that? Did he say what he was going to do next?”

“Next?” repeats the ghost after him. “What next?”

Klaus sighs. “Do you have another lead?” he asks Not-Ben. “Because this one is looking like a dead end.”

“Pun intended?” says Not-Ben.

“I'd say no, but you wouldn't believe me.”

The ghost is now fingering the knives embedded in his sternum. There must be about five of them. “Murder!” he shrieks. “Murder!”

Klaus winces. “Yep, it’s twigged for him.”

The ghost grabs him by the collar. Curse Not-Ben for making him wear a collared shirt. “Whoa,” starts Klaus, grappling with him, “no touching, that’s extra - ”

“Murder - Bob,” gabbles the ghost. “Find - Murder - Bob.”

“A little help here?” Klaus shoots at Not-Ben.

“I don’t see what I can do,” says Not-Ben. “My hands will just go through everything.”

But the ghost has been distracted by something. He has risen to his feet and is now wandering away. “Light,” he mumbles. “Light.”

“Oh yes,” says Klaus, “go to the light, there’s a good boy - ”

Not-Ben hauls him to his feet. “Thanks for nothing,” says Klaus. “Do you know anyone called Bob? I think he’s next on the murder list.”

“Everyone knows someone called Bob,” says Not-Ben. “But I guess it’s better than nothing."

“I deserve a treat,” complains Klaus. “You should buy me a drink.”

“All your siblings specifically told me not to buy you any drinks.”

“Buy me boba,” says Klaus cajolingly. “Please say you still have boba in this timeline.”

“We call it bubble tea,” says Not-Ben reprovingly.

“You do!” Klaus seal-claps. “One hundred per cent sugar, please, drinks on you.”

*

The Allison of this timeline ran a jazz bar in New Orleans, in which she sang from time to time. She was married to a man called Robert Broussard. They had no children.

“How’s she doing?” Klaus asked Luther when he came down to the Den. Allison had not left her room in days. Sometimes, if you listened hard enough at night, you could hear her screaming.

“Not great,” said Luther. “She doesn’t even want to talk to me any more.”

“Can’t she just Rumour Claire back into existence?”

“She said it doesn’t work like that.”

“Huh,” said Klaus. He popped a Cheeto into his mouth. The house was relatively empty. The Sparrows were out on some mission. Five and Vanya had gone out house-hunting - Vanya wanted to move out as soon as possible and Five wanted to help, even though his experience in house-hunting revolved entirely around picking through post-apocalyptic debris. Diego was off searching for the insane love of his life, though goodness knows where you’d even start with that one in this century. Diego sure knew how to pick them, thought Klaus. 

“We interrupt your programme to bring you breaking news,” the television proclaimed. “Shots have been fired in the Sunray Mall downtown - going live now to our reporter at the scene - Angie, what do you see?”

“Sources say there are seven gunmen loose in the mall,” the reporter was saying. “Oh, and it looks like the Sparrow Academy is on the scene. Let’s get a closer look.”

“Check this out.” Klaus nudged Luther with his foot.

The Sparrows were running in formation towards the mall. Not-Ben was in the lead, his greatcoat flaring, the Bond villain scar making his face look especially grim. On his left, Carina whipped off her shades and released a short burst of black laser beam at the mall doors, which crumpled inwards. Gunfire rang out. The Sparrows threw themselves out of the paths of the bullets, except for Not-Ben, who skidded to a halt as Baptiste slid in front of him. The bullets struck Baptiste in the chest; he roared and flung his arms out, pointing. Two of the gunmen yelled out in pain. Then Baptiste dropped to the ground and Not-Ben let fly, tentacles ripping out of him and into the mall, plucking gunmen off various floors and dumping them in the fountain in the atrium. The rest of the Sparrows were on them swiftly, subduing them.

“And the Sparrow Academy saves the day again!” cried the reporter. The camera zoomed in on Not-Ben wiping a streak of blood off his face, helping Baptiste to his feet and clapping him on the back, before striding into the mall, shouting instructions to the others. One of the gunmen made a run for it and a tentacle pinned him to the ground. Not-Ben didn’t even break stride.

“I guess he is a pretty good Number One,” said Luther.

Klaus, in what he hoped was a consolatory gesture, handed him a Cheeto.

*

“How did you become Number One?” asks Klaus. They’re sitting in Not-Ben’s pick-up in the parking lot with their bubble tea. Klaus is drinking pink grapefruit Yakult jelly and Not-Ben is drinking Earl Grey milk tea because he’s basic in this timeline.

“We took turns,” says Not-Ben. “Starting from when we were 13. We had a roster and everything, and Dad would evaluate us at the end of each mission. None of us liked being Number One, really. Well, maybe Quentin - but then he had the accident and we had to import his consciousness into a floating cube, and after that he seemed to lose interest in the whole leadership gig.”

“So you took over.”

“I was asked to.” Not-Ben pokes at the dregs of his drink with his straw. “The others chose me. I didn’t want to at first, but someone had to do it.”

Klaus makes a vulgar noise trying to hoover up jelly with his straw. “Democracy. Not something I’d ever associate with Reginald Hargreeves’ parenting style.”

“I don’t know why you keep making Dad out to be so bad. He’s tough, sure - he’s more like our boss than our father - but he’s not _evil_.”

“We used to have these rabbits,” says Klaus. “In my timeline, I mean. Each of us had one. We were supposed to look after them, make sure they were fed and everything. I called mine Pickles. One day good ol’ Reggie made us bring all the rabbits into the training room. He told Ben to pick them up, with his powers. You can guess what happened next.”

He still remembers it: Allison, lip trembling; Vanya, biting back a sob. Ben, covered in blood and rabbit guts, mumbling, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry - ”

“He said it was Number Six’s fault for not having enough control.” Klaus looks down at the ice melting in his cup. “I think we must have been eight at the time.”

“I’m sorry that happened,” says Not-Ben quietly.

Klaus makes a hitching sound in his throat. “At least it seems like he got the memo this time. How Not To Fuck Your Kids Up.”

“Oh, like we’re so wholesome.”

“Well, you’re 30 and you’re still living with your dad and you wear a uniform that makes you look like you’re fulfilling a schoolboy fetish and as far I can see, none of you seems to have any dating prospects, but compared to us? You’re totally wholesome. I think Luther wants to be you, and if you knew us you’d know what a mindfuck that is.”

“Hey,” says Ben. “We date people, okay. We’re not cloistered or anything. Baptiste gets around.”

“How? His face looks like putty.”

“I’m told he’s very empathetic and apparently that’s attractive. Samia’s seeing this ornithologist at the university, he studies dead birds, it’s a bit strange but they’ve been going steady for a while. Quentin - well, Quentin is a cube. But he has a whole online life we don’t even know about.”

“What about you?”

“Well,” says Ben self-consciously. “I don’t really have time for that kind of thing? It’s hard to meet people when you have to save the world every other day. Plus there’s the whole tentacle monster thing.”

Klaus leers. “I bet lots of people are into tentacles.”

Ben makes a face. “Please don’t.”

“You should date all the people,” says Klaus. “I’ll help you, I’m a great wingman, ask Luther. You’re a hero, the scar’s pretty hot, I’d say you could get it if you didn’t look exactly like my dead brother - speaking of which.” Klaus gasps. “You _have_ to do it for Ben. He died a virgin, you know.”

“This is the weirdest conversation,” says Ben. “I’m taking you back to the house and putting you back in your room, I regret everything.”

“We’re not going back to the house!” shouts Klaus. “We’re going clubbing!”

“It’s 4pm,” says Ben.

“Boring in every timeline,” says Klaus. “Honestly.”

*

Klaus slept very little - it had always been a side effect of his gift - and he found himself wandering the house again at night, as he had done when he was a child. It was no longer his house, but he still knew every nook and cranny of it - the creaky step on the back stairway you had to skip, which outstretched statue arm to avoid braining yourself on in the dark. He was reaching out for where he knew the pantry light switch to be when he realised the light was already on.

It was Samia and Not-Ben, talking in low voices at the counter. They were wearing matching dressing gowns and had mugs of cocoa in hand. Klaus leaned against the doorframe, out of sight, and listened. 

“Two years ago, in Frankfurt,” Samia was saying. She was wiry with curly hair and had a way of cocking her head when she listened, like the birds she turned into. “It was an overdose. Heroin. No next of kin.”

Not-Ben nodded, mouth thin. 

“Are we going to tell him?”

“Not for now,” said Not-Ben. “You saw what happened with Allison.”

“I don’t know why Dad wants us to find their parallel selves,” huffed Samia. “I don’t see that it’s doing them any good. I don’t get why we’re helping them to begin with. They’re a mess.”

“Because we could have been them, Samia. By the grace of...Dad.”

“Yeah,” snorted Samia. “And he wants us to remember that.”

They sipped their cocoa in silence. Klaus felt tears pricking his eyes. He touched his finger to one, stared at his wet fingertip in the dark.

“Do you think about it?” said Samia. “The other you?”

“I try not to.”

“I’m glad that they’re them and we’re us,” she said fiercely. “Because it means we have you. They’re the ones who lost you.”

Klaus didn’t stay to hear Not-Ben’s reply. He was stumbling back through the dark, hand clapped over his mouth. Remembered the feeling of Ben, his Ben, running their fingers through the dirt. All the things he could have let Ben do, if only he’d thought to be kind. How easy it was, to take the dead for granted. By the grace of. By the grace of.

*

“Something’s wrong,” says Ben as they get out of the car. Before Klaus can speak, he’s sprinting into the house, unbuttoning his coat as he runs. 

Klaus chases after him into the garden, where the Sparrows are clustered in a fighting stance and Five is tensed to spring out of sight and Luther and Vanya are backed up against the wall and Diego is inching carefully, hands outstretched and placating, towards...

“Diego?” Lila is saying, voice raw and panicked. “What is this?”

“It’s okay, Lila,” Diego says in what he probably thinks is a soothing tone, “they’re like us, they’re gifted - ”

“Oh, are they?” says Lila, and stabs herself in the hand. Baptiste howls.

“She’s a mirror!” shouts Five. “Nobody get close to her, she can copy your powers!”

“They’re family,” says Diego. “Like you are to us. Aren’t they, guys?”

“Yeah,” says Ben, stepping forward. “We’re family. Lila, right?” And, as Lila eyes him, probably sizing up his powers, he adds: “You don’t want to try mine. It hurts like hell.”

“Come on, Lila,” says Diego. “You can trust me. I’m here for you.”

Lila bites her lip. Then she lowers the suitcase onto the ground and steps into Diego’s arms. 

“Great,” says Diego. “That’s my girl.” And then: “Okay, now we have to get out of here before Dad sees you.”

“Cool. Want to go explode something?”

“Whatever you want, babe.”

Lila winks at Five. “Gimme that for a sec,” she says, and then she grabs Diego’s hand and vanishes into thin air.

Everyone stares. Five throws his hands up in exasperation and makes to storm out.

“Hey,” says Vanya. “Hey, Allison.”

Klaus turns to see Allison striding purposefully across the garden. “Five,” he begins warningly, “Five, she’s - ”

Allison picks up the suitcase, twists the dial and vanishes with a pop. Luther lunges for her a second too late and goes sprawling in the grass.

“Wow,” says Carina into the silence. “It’s just endless drama with you lot, isn’t it?”

“Oh fuck off,” begins Luther, rounding on her.

Ben puts himself between Luther and Carina. “Hey, man,” he says. “Not on.”

Luther glowers at him. Then his shoulders drop and he stalks off.

“Carina,” says Ben, “go tell Mum we may need another bedroom made up.”

“It’s fine,” says Klaus. “Lila and Diego will probably share.”

“But didn’t he just say that she was like your sibling?” Carina bursts out. “Does your batch have a different definition of ‘sibling’ from our batch?”

There is an awkward pause.

“Let’s just not go into that one,” says Vanya.

*

Allison returns at dawn. Klaus is curled up in the window seat, watching the murmuration of starlings that is Samia in flight swoop and whirl above the garden, when he becomes aware of the green glow hovering outside his door.

“ _Hello_ ,” says Quentin. His voice, digitally produced, somehow sounds extremely British. “ _I thought you might like to know that your sister has reappeared. She is weeping in the foyer_.”

“Thanks,” says Klaus, non-plussed.

“ _You’re welcome,_ ” says Quentin. “ _Please go receive her, if you would be so kind; none of us wants to do it_.”

Klaus dawdles a bit, looking for his dressing gown, which means that Five gets there before him and his yelling wakes everyone else up. “Allison, what the _fuck_ were you thinking?”

Allison is sitting on the steps, clutching her elbows and shivering. Five has snatched the suitcase from her grasp and is holding it at arm’s length.

“Hey, hey, hey,” says Klaus, adopting his best herding-cats tone, “inside voices, everybody - ”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” says Allison, her voice shaking. “I made a life in 2019 and you made me leave it; I made another life in 1963 and you made me leave it. I left Ray. My _husband_. And I thought I was doing it to see Claire, only now she doesn’t exist because _we erased her_ \- ”

“Look, I’m sorry about Claire, but you can’t go messing with time like that, Allison - ”

“You never even knew her!” shouts Allison. “How would you have the faintest idea?”

“You think I wanted it to be like that, huh?” hisses Five. “You think I wanted to have my niece born and gone without my ever having known her? For fuck’s sake, Allison.”

“Allison,” and now Luther is coming down the stairs warily. “What did you do? Did you - did you go back to 1963?”

Allison lets out a long breath. “I went back to 2014.”

“To - wha?” says Klaus.

“Oh,” says Five. “Oh no. You didn’t.”

“I went to find Patrick,” continues Allison. “On the day we conceived Claire.”

There is the sound of splintering wood. Klaus does not need to glance up to know that yes, Luther has cracked the banister.

“You didn’t Rumour him, did you?” says Five.

“I - what? No! Do you really think so little of me?”

Everyone hesitates just long enough.

“Fuck you,” says Allison bitterly. “Fuck you all.”

“So, uh,” says Klaus. “Did it take?”

“I stayed in 2014 long enough to check,” says Allison, “and yes. You’re uncles. Again. Except for Five, it’ll be his first time.”

“Christ on a popsicle,” says Klaus. “Aw, Five, are you crying?”

“No,” snaps Five. “Yes. They’re tears of anger. Allison, if that isn’t just about the pinnacle of stupidity - ”

Allison hiccups on a sob and reaches out to him. “Come here, you.”

Five teleports out of her reach. “You don’t even know it’s going to turn out the same Claire!”

“I will take that chance,” says Allison. “I’ll take any goddamn chance in the world.”

“Guys,” says Ben from the top of the stairs, “I hate to interrupt the feels, but what the hell is going on?”

“Allison went back in time and got knocked up,” Klaus informs him.

Ben absorbs this. “Great. Now we have baby drama. Guess I’ll have to debrief Dad. I suppose congratulations are in order?” 

“But,” says Luther. “Who’s going to raise her with you?”

Allison gestures at them all. “I thought we would do it together. All of us.”

Luther sits down heavily on the stairs, which creak in protest.

“This kid is going to be so fucked up,” says Klaus blithely. “World, I don’t think you can’t handle this!”

*

“So,” says Diego, who has somehow materialised at the foot of the bed, “I want you to be my best man.”

Klaus squints blearily at him. “Go away. What time is it even?”

“It’s ten o’clock in the morning,” says Diego. 

“Ugh.” Klaus puts his pillow over his head. “When’s the wedding?”

“Now,” says Lila. “We did paperwork and everything. Come on, chop chop.”

Klaus lifts a corner of his pillow. Lila makes a face at him from the window seat. “What up, Psycho Sis?”

“Hey,” says Diego, thumping him with the pillow, “that is your sister-in-law to be. Be nice.”

Klaus allows himself to be dragged out of bed and pushed towards the wardrobe. “You are inviting the others, aren’t you?” he mumbles. “Oh, Allison’s preggers, by the way. With Claire v.2.”

“She is?” Diego considers this. “Awesome. What did Dad say?”

“Hates it,” says Klaus. “We’re all a disgrace. Think he’ll evict us by the end of the week. Don’t invite him.”

“Hell no,” says Diego. “Wait, should I ask the other ones? The Sparrows, I mean.”

Klaus shrugs. “Your call. I think you should at least ask Ben though. I know he’s not our Ben, but he’s _a_ Ben.”

“Fair enough,” says Diego. “Let’s round ‘em up.”

Somehow, within the hour, they’re all down at City Hall. Five is swigging coffee by the gallon and glaring daggers at Lila, who has somehow found a giant poofy salmon-coloured gown and is wearing it with combat boots. Allison, resplendent in buttercup yellow, is beaming on the arm of Luther, who has been squished into some variety of mutant tuxedo and is looking ill at ease. The Sparrow Academy are there, all in uniform and looking completely flummoxed. 

“So I’m thinking Mom should walk me down the aisle,” Diego is saying, “and Five, maybe you can walk Lila - ”

“Right, ‘cause he killed my parents,” says Lila, and pops her gum. “That makes sense.”

“For the record,” says Five, “I object to this union.”

“There isn’t even any aisle,” says the registrar, “you literally just need to sign here and here, that’s it.”

“Everybody ready?” says Diego. “Vanya, you’re up.”

Vanya obligingly lifts her violin and begins to play Pachelbel. 

“Lila,” says Diego, taking her by the hands, “I believe that there are things in this world we are never meant to understand, and I will never understand what you see in me or why you didn’t kill me all those times, but I promise that I will never leave you alone again. You would have to kill me properly for that to happen.”

“Diego,” says Lila, “I broke into an asylum for you, and I would do it again, because I’m crazy for you.”

“Kill me now,” mutters Five.

“Don’t tempt me,” says Lila sweetly, gazing into Diego’s eyes.

The registrar says, bored, “Are there rings? No? Okay. Do you, Diego Hargreeves, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do,” says Diego.

“Do you, Lila Pitts, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” says Lila, grinning like a shark.

“Okay. I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Diego and Lila hop to snogging with such an enthusiasm that Five winces. Lila has not even removed her gum. Mom beams, manufacturing tears of joy. Allison whoops. The Sparrows clap politely. Klaus is about to throw uncooked rice on everybody when the ceiling cracks and a giant robot hand tears the roof of City Hall off.

“Whoa,” says Diego, staring up at the giant robot. “Did we do that?”

“Actually,” says Five, “I think, for once, this one isn’t on us.”

“IT IS I, THE MURDER MAGICIAN!!!” booms a voice from inside the robot. “BEHOLD MY MURDERBOT!!!”

Klaus punches Ben in the shoulder. “The ghost said _Murderbot_! Not _Murder Bob!_ ” 

“Thanks,” says Ben. “Very helpful. So timely. Sparrows, to me!”

“Team Zero, to me!” shouts Diego. 

“Team Zero is not happening,” says Luther, “stop trying to make it happen.”

“It’s my wedding day! Humour me!”

The Murder Magician cackles. “AND NOW, PUNY HARGREEVES, I WILL CRUSH YOUR - ”

There is a loud, high chord, and the top of the Murderbot’s head snaps clean off. Everyone turns to look at Vanya, who lowers her violin and says mildly, “Oh, sorry, did you want to hear him out?”

The Murderbot’s body emits some shrieks and begins to go berserk. “Delta formation!” shouts Ben. “And you guys - I guess you guys just do your thing?”

“Welcome to the family,” Five tells Lila. “I suppose it’s too late to change your mind?”

“You wish,” says Lila. She looks them all over, eyes gleaming - a platter of superpowers to pick from. “Come on, old man. Race you to the top.” She vanishes with a pop. Five curses and does the same.

“Oh yeah,” says Klaus to himself. “Home sweet home.”

**Author's Note:**

> For longer, darker, crazier Umbrella fic, check out [my haunted house AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18289661/chapters/43287068).


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